


Cherry-Flavored

by Nitzer



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: (it's kinda mutual kinda not), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, Hyung Kink, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, all the other members are essentially cameos, but it's not important bc this is porn, but only like kinda, cherry motif, some commentary on idol culture, tbh their relationship in this is kinda complicated, we roast them bc we kinda love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitzer/pseuds/Nitzer
Summary: Inseong stops looking at Seokwoo for a long, long time. It's a lollipop that draws his eyes back--a heart-shaped, cherry-flavored, red lollipop.





	Cherry-Flavored

**Author's Note:**

> i know that sf9 did have a fansign is Busan around halloween but this isn't based on that, this isn't really based on anything tbh except the roseong tag on here being so DRY like what a disappointment  
> also i'm a little bit mean to both rowoon and inseong in here but it comes from a place of love  
> additional warnings: there's like the barest, barest hint of age play in here (basically rowoon just calls inseong a "dirty old man"), the hyung kink is pretty downplayed too but it's still there and inseong cries a little bit after the sexy times but it has nothing to do with the sexy times really  
> and, you know, keeping up with my trademark of only writing porn for people i find completely unfuckable, here we go again

Seokwoo wasn’t a “face genius.” Anyone who got close enough to Seokwoo to stop calling him “Rowoon” knew that his beauty was easy to get past. He was all about angles and height and when you spent more than a couple hours with him for a shoot or a broadcast or whatever, it was too easy to catch a wrong angle or see him crumpled up to fit into a chair or bang his head on some low-hanging light. So Rowoon was the only “face genius” we had. And he only existed to fans and hosts and MCs and sometimes new staff members.

If Rowoon was a smooth and impossibly handsome dream boy, Seokwoo was an awkward and clumsy thirteen-year-old still getting used to his too-long limbs. Seokwoo stunned you once, maybe twice, before his beauty was commonplace, was boring, was just another part of life like the annoying hum of the old refrigerator in the dorms. Except, his beauty wasn’t annoying (plenty of other parts of him were, though like the fact that he never seemed to get used to his ridiculously long limbs and still knocked his head on the bunkbed every time he woke up), it was just a background noise.

I _forgot_ that Seokwoo was beautiful enough to be our visual—beautiful enough to do “flower boys” photo shoots with members of Seventeen and NCT—most of the time because it’s the kind of beauty that hits you in an all-consuming flash and then disappears. And I _did_ kind of remember when Seokwoo’s beauty did stun and floor me and I was almost obsessed with him. I mean, I barely remembered it but it was buried somewhere down there. It was almost a joke between me and Youngbin, how we used to both dote on Seokwoo and were constantly in awe of him and now we just…don’t care.

It wasn’t when I first came to FNC that Seokwoo managed to make me believe that he was beautiful because Seokwoo was like sixteen or whatever and never took off his fucking heelies. I was way too old for his shit and, at best, found his antics endearing but never found him beautiful. It wasn’t until sometime in-between the show and debut that I ever realized. Somewhere in-between promotional photo shoots where Seokwoo was always showing his best angle and him lighting up brighter than anyone else under stage lights and absolutely perfected dance moves, I started stumbling over my words with him and trailing him around and doting on him. Then just as suddenly and randomly I realized that I my breath didn’t catch in my throat when I saw him anymore and I wasn’t spending as much time with him anymore and I barely remembered that he was beautiful.

Seokwoo was a lightning strike of a person and I had already been struck. The only thing that was left was his fizzing, snorty laugh (that sounded bad until _you_ made him laugh and then it was kinda cute) and the way he had to fold his legs into mine to squeeze into his seat in the car and him drooling while he slept. He was too real to be stunning. He was just a kid trying his best, not the lead of a romance manga. So I stopped being enamored with Seokwoo and so did Youngbin and Juho and Taeyang and I doubt Chanhee ever even was. And all that was left were the fans and whoever else called him “Rowoon” instead.

And it was _weird_ whenever someone did bring up a face genius in our group. I always had to wrack my brain for who they could be talking about and I honestly usually settled on Taeyang before someone mentioned Rowoon. It was even weirder with the fans. At concerts whenever Seokwoo’s face was on the big screen, I’d hear the roar of the crowd get louder and could never stop myself from wondering why. It was the same response whether he was in drag for an AOA song or drenched in sweat or laughing maniacally at something he’d just thrown at one of us (probably me), the fans screamed the same. I guess their awe was unconditional. It was the same thing at fansigns but quieter and over and over again. I watched fans sit down in front of Seokwoo and stutter out a “R-Rowoon” and blush and lose all their words like he was actually something to be nervous about.

It wasn’t like Seokwoo didn’t have his own charms. He was handsome and he was loud and a lot of his habits fell on the side of cute rather than annoying. It was just the volume of the response that got me. It was always Seokwoo that had girls squealing and tripping over their words which didn’t add up to me when I caught Juho at the right angle earlier and gasped and when I noticed the way Chanhee was growing into his face or when Taeyang smiled at me  and I forgot to breathe sometimes. All the members were breathtakingly handsome as frequently and intensely as Seokwoo was but Seokwoo was the only one that got recognition for it.

I guess the fans never got to see him drool into a seat cushion on an airplane. Or snort into his cola at a nice restaurant. Or choke on boneless chicken somehow. Or heely into a glass door at the company building. The fans never got to spend that much time with him. He got to exist as a manga character and not the dumb kid you shared a bunk bed with. But that charm had worn off for me. He literally _was_ the uncoordinated and kinda dumb kid that slept on the bottom bunk of our room to me.  

And every attempt to fit him into the “flower boy” box only made it more painfully apparent that it didn’t _fit_ him. He wasn’t sexy, he always ended up laughing and embarrassed into the camera or had to hide his face to do body rolls in front of anyone outside the group. He was bad at boyfriend stuff too and only ever managed to be cute in a way that older girls loved (usually by being embarrassed and giggly and bad at things). Almost all of his charm came from the fact that he was always putting his all into everything even if he was bad. And it was cute, it really was but it was like a maknae charm (that Chanhee had _none_ of) and not a visual thing.

And maybe it was all the “Rowoon is sexy” or “Rowoon is so handsome” or “Rowoon is like an animation character” and my conscious separation of Rowoon from Seokwoo that made me lose what was truly impressive about Seokwoo. It was just the constant praise and hype that lead to more disappointment than anything—that made me search out the other member’s charming points to prove that they were just as good. Seokwoo wasn’t _not_ handsome. He just wasn’t Rowoon and he didn’t live up to the image that Rowoon had, floating around out there in the public consciousness (I guess none of us did, though).

I didn’t expect to ever find anything stunning or amazing or _breathtaking_ in Seokwoo ever again. I thought I had gotten over it, had it pass me by already but I had only gotten over his beauty. And I never bothered to think about there being anything else there for me to discover. So it’s completely unexpected when I _do_ uncover something else in Seokwoo and my breath catches in my throat again and I think about giving him the whole world again.

It was at a fansign at Busan that it becomes apparent. Not that any sort of life altering experience should’ve happened at our like third or fourth fansign in Busan. It’s the same as it’s always been, Jaeyoon accidentally (or purposefully, who knows) slipping into satoori with the fans and melting at their delighted reactions. We’ve been to Busan enough that I’m starting to recognize fans and the bolder ones laugh with me like we’re friends (I’d love to feel like we were). It’s early fall, close to Halloween and almost all the fans have candies for us and a lot of them have bits of pieces of costumes for us to pose with. I notice that Seokwoo starts off with the biggest pile of candy, behind the table we’re sitting at and it only keeps growing (faster than anyone else’s) for the rest of the day.

He gets flower crowns and regular crowns and cheap, not-that-cute animal ears and way more expensive, way cuter animal ears to pose with and tons and tons of candy to keep. And it’s not even some cute accessory that makes my heart race—that makes me see Seokwoo for Seokwoo for the first time in years. It’s a lollipop. It’s a bright, cherry red, heart-shaped lollipop sticking out of Seokwoo’s mouth while he’s signing. The light spills down the slope of Seokwoo’s impossibly straight nose as I turn towards him and the cherry is sticky and glossy on his lips and my heart stops in my chest at the sight.

It’s not Seokwoo being handsome, being sexy, being charming, being _Rowoon_. It’s something I’ve never associated with Seokwoo before—temptation. He’s tempting me. The candy sits in his mouth, innocently, teasingly—begging me to imagine (begging me to imagine that mouth on me, around me, leaving a hot and sticky trail of melted candy on my skin). The artificial color stains the inside middle of his lips bright red and fades towards the edges like purposefully applied makeup. The slight, heart shaped bulge of his cheek is hardly obscene, it’s barely even a suggestion. The whole thing is equal parts innocence and unavoidable _suggestion_ and every fiber or my being is yearning to just reach out and touch. 

Seokwoo is completely unaware that my entire world view has shifted and narrowed down to a laser intense focus on touching him, wanting him. He just keeps sucking on the lollipop, laughing with fans—oblivious. 

“Why are you eating that?” My stunned desire comes out as biting annoyance instead.

He pops the candy out to answer and I hear the soft “pop” as it leaves his mouth and the sound makes my lust bubble up wildly. “Fans like it when they know I’ve eaten.” He sounds smug like he’s gloating about the candy pile he has growing behind the table. 

“That’s not food, that’s candy.” I say like a reprimanding mother. I guess I am reprimanding. I want to be able to blame the bubbling heat in the pit of my stomach on someone else.

“No one’s given me food yet,” he smirks, “just candy.” And, _god_ , he really thinks that I’m jealous over his popularity or his stupid candy pile or all the ugly headbands he had to wear that day when really all I want to do is lick into every inch of his cherry-stained mouth.

I don’t correct him, though, (I really can’t) because a girl, giggling behind a delicate hand just sat down in front of me and I was here for the Fantasies. The fantasies (lowercase ‘f’) of Seokwoo and the color red and sticky kisses have to wait. 

Seokwoo just sits next to me—too happy, I can _feel_ the smugness radiating off of him—tempting while also feeling absolutely untouchable. It’s—disgustingly—part of the appeal, the feeling that I _can’t_ touch him. I don’t know why he feels untouchable though. Seokwoo has always been one of the most available, one of the most _tangible_ people in my entire life. He smacked my ass on the way out to greet the fans earlier that day and I didn’t even flinch because it was such a common occurrence. Two days before the fansign I smacked a loud and obnoxious kiss on Seokwoo’s cheek during a vlive. A couple of nights before that I collapsed on his bed because I was too tired to climb up to my bunk and if the beds weren’t so small I bet that Seokwoo would’ve just slept on top of me. He was always next to me, in my space, touching almost invasively and happy to receive any contact back.

If I were to reach my hand up and just settle my fingers on his sticky lips I bet he wouldn’t even bat them away. I had spent more than enough time with Seokwoo to know that I _could_ touch. But with that oversized bright blue sweater falling over his fingers and the bright red lips he felt forbidden. He felt like something I shouldn’t touch because I could ruin it. He felt like a painting in a museum, hiding behind a red velvet rope. And nothing felt as fucking good—I never wanted anything more than things that I maybe shouldn’t have. So my fingers kept twitching against my thigh with the need to _touch_.

A fan sits down in front of me and asks me if I will make a hand heart with Seokwoo so she can take a picture. Seokwoo is holding his hand out in a half heart before I even answer the question. “Take the candy out of your mouth at least.” I tell him.

“It’s cute.” He argues, shooting me a smug smile.

“It’s fine, it’s cute.” The fan tells us, probably sensing an argument she did not want to witness.

“It looks stupid.” I tell him, voice lower, trying to let the fan get out of this.

“She likes it.” He uses the lollipop to point at the fan. “He’s just cranky because he’s old.” Seokwoo explains smoothly, amusedly to the fan.

I bite my tongue because this is for the Fantasies, this is for the Fantasies and I will pull Seokwoo into a headlock the second they aren’t looking (his height isn’t worth shit against my pure rage anyway). And I begrudgingly hold up my half of the heart. When my fingertips touch his, a jolt goes through my whole body and the _want_ flares back up again. I _am_ touching. Even though it’s just his fingertips, it’s the same chaste intimacy as hand-holding. It’s no closer than we’ve ever been before. But he’s still done up like some kind of doll, in a way that makes my breath stop and I’m _touching_.

I break the heart as soon as I hear the shutter click of the camera like I’m rushing for a breath of air after being underwater, like the touch burned me (actually, physically and not just in my lust-fogged brain). The girl doesn’t ask for another picture probably because everything seems weird already. I don’t blame her but I hope I never see that particular picture while browsing the internet ever. (I secretly hope that it’s blurry or that her phone spontaneously deletes it or breaks or something).

When she moves over to Jaeyoon, Seokwoo leans into me dramatically. “Don’t be like that, hyung,” he whines, “I’ll share with you.” He winks at me like it’s a secret (and like he isn’t just going to give me the shittiest candy he has) and I flinch backwards to avoid flinching forwards…into him and shoving my tongue down his throat in front of the rest of the group and our staff and all the fans in Busan. I can’t _believe_ he still thinks this is about his stupid candy.

The stupid candy stays in his mouth for the _entire_ rest of the fansign. I swear it wasn’t big enough to last that long. There was no reason there should still be candy left to suck on but there is. And he keeps popping the candy out periodically to talk to the fans and I see that there’s still plenty left and it’s still glistening red and staining his mouth and heart-shaped. And it’s still driving me crazy.

I try to trail myself off of the stage away from Seokwoo (because any more temptation _will_ break me) but he lingers around with me, helping the staff pick up and we trail out together last, away from the rest of the group instead. “So sulky, hyung,” he teases, “you know Halloween is for the kids right?”

“You’re hardly any younger than me.” I remind him because the three years feels meaningless now that we’re both well into adulthood.

“Hit a nerve?” He asks, sucking a breath in and not sounding apologetic at all. “I’m sorry. Here, I’ll share.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth and offers it to me. It’s supposed to be a joke. I’m supposed to go “ew” and refuse it because that’s gross. But we’ve lived in such impossibly close quarters for so long and I’ve seen him do so much grosser. And I’m thinking about all the places on his body that I’d be willing to—and actually, would actively _want_ to—put my mouth on and a half-eaten lollipop doesn’t feel too gross at all.

So I keep deliberate eye contact with him and pluck it from his hand and pull it to my mouth, letting it rest on my tongue before closing my lips around it. It _is_ mildly gross—warm and wet and sticky in a way that isn’t as sexy as I’d like it to be. But the way Seokwoo’s pupils blow out in a matter of seconds, the way the teasing smile drops off his face, makes it fucking worth it. The air between us crackles, changing dramatically as I watch his eyes trail the exact path that the lollipop makes from his hand to my mouth. “Oh,” he says plainly, blankly, stunned. 

“You really think,” I mumble around the lollipop, “this is about your stupid fucking candy?” His eyes are still trained firmly on my mouth.

“I didn’t think it would be a stupid fucking candy that made you look at me again.” He breathes out.

The longing is palpable, open and feels deep and old. I don’t reciprocate it. I don’t get to correct him. I can’t say “I’ve been looking at you all along” because at some point I definitely stopped. So I don’t correct him, I don’t say anything to him (I don’t have the heart to lie when he’s being so honest). Instead I pull him down towards me (it’s a two inch difference that feels like miles) and say the closest thing to the truth I can. “But you look so pretty like this, Seokkie.” 

He pulls me up, cupping my face on both sides into a bruising kiss that tastes like artificial cherry and intense longing. And it feels like he towers over me, big hands enveloping my face. He’s _so_ big, curling around me in a way I never noticed before. I can’t kiss him without standing on my tip-toes. His long arms circle my waist easily (his hands alone, honestly could probably circle my waist). His broad shoulders feel like my anchor back to the real world so I don’t get lost in how easily he swallows me up. The two inch difference in our heights never felt this _substantial_ —barely ever felt like a difference at all.

I should probably be addressing what is very likely a size kink I guess I never knew about. But I’m not because Seokwoo’s hands are so big on my face and I can’t stop being conscious of how much I have to tilt my face to meet his lips. And my head is swimming with the thought of being pinned under him, of how easy that would be for him. It’s becoming unfortunately apparent that I should not let him take the lead or pin me anywhere or be in charge of anything though. He’s over enthusiastic in kissing and clearly, _painfully_ , inexperienced. He keeps trying to sloppily push his tongue into my mouth in what feels like deep longing and desperation. It almost flattering but mostly it’s unpleasantly wet and slobbery.

I push Seokwoo (who is surprisingly pliant for all his broad shoulders and impossible height) through a door into an empty room with some scattered props and lighting equipment and a lone couch sitting in the middle. It’s almost suspiciously convenient but I don’t have the attention span to think it over now that my mouth is probably stained cherry red too. I push him easily down onto the couch and climb into his lap. “Let hyung.” I instruct, pressing him firmly against the back of the couch. “Just,” I murmur, lips barely brushing against his, “let hyung.”

He’s surprisingly good at taking directions and relaxes under my touch. And without him constantly pushing into me, trying to get something—whatever it was—out of me, it’s at least a _kiss_ and not a wet mess. I stroke a soft trail down his jaw line and he melts under it and it’s so, _so_ easy to kiss him properly, to slide our mouths together. And he’s still sticky from the candy and I can’t believe how much hotter it makes the whole thing but trying to pull away slightly only to find myself still attached in some way, staring down his perfectly arranged features from so close making me hot and desperate too. And the artificial cherry tastes so much better in Seokwoo’s mouth than it did on the candy.

I’m balanced precariously over his lap, keeping myself steady by holding onto his shoulders (which already unbalance me with their width). He settles his hands around my waist, keeping me close. And I can’t help the breath that I suck in (obvious to him, against his mouth) because his hands _are_ so big and his fingers can almost touch around my waist.

“You like calling yourself ‘hyung’?” He teases. “You like being in charge? You like doing this with your dongsaeng?” I don’t have the breath, the brain capacity to explain that it’s how big he is, that it’s the way he envelops me that’s making me lose my breath. “Dirty old man.” But there is something stupidly hot in that and I finally let myself lick into his mouth instead of even trying. He tugs me forward at the contact, pulling me off my knees and into his lap and I’m groaning into his mouth. It’s still not an easy fit on whatever forgotten couch we’re doing this on, but I’m an easy fit for _him_. I’m not small (I think I’m the second tallest after Seokwoo) but I slot into his lap so perfectly. It should be someone smaller, more delicate but it’s me and Seokwoo clings to me like there’s no one he’d rather it be.

I kinda wanted him to put his hands in my hair and tug so he could mouth at my neck. But I also kinda never want his hands to leave my waist. Mostly I want his hands everywhere they could possibly be but that’s impossible and also Seokwoo wasn’t making any moves anymore, content to follow my lead. So I lead. I take the hands around my waist and push them up under my sweater and the skin-on-skin contact burns in the best way possible. It's hot and hurried, my hands curling into the front of his sweater to pull him closer. He's still overeager and indecisive, his hands everywhere at once but the touches feel almost reverent and I'm melting into him. I pull his head back by his hair to mouth at his neck and I want to be the one with my neck bared, my hair pulled. But I can lead by example for now.

His fluttering hands manage to finally unbalance me, pulling me forward so I'm entirely in his lap. I scrape my teeth against his neck in surprise and he whines, low and pretty in response. I try to settle myself in his lap, to stop putting all my weight on his chest but I settle on something else instead. "You're hard already?" I breathe against his neck more to myself than anything else.

He sputters and goes an endearing shade of red in the face. "Not all of us got to fuck around in Europe or whatever as teenagers." His fingers dig into my skin without him thinking about it but I like the faint sting it provides. "Some of us were stuck in trainee rooms since middle school." He huffs.

I breathe out a light laugh. "Cute." I don't know what Seokwoo thought I got up to in England but I really didn't. There was no way to fuck around with the language barrier and there was no space to fuck around in the house of my host family. “It’s not bad.” I manage to reassure. It’s, honestly, a clumsy compliment like the rest of his fumbling eagerness.

“What about you, hyung?” He asks lowly, pulling me down and grinding up. “Do you get hard whenever you smell cherry now?” He teases and I’m weak and limp on top of him now, just taking whatever he gives.

“What?” I mumble out, confused in my lust-fogged brain.

“You think I never heard you at night?” He nearly growls, mouth hot against my ear. “You’re barely feet away, hyung,” he hisses, the honorific falling off of his tongue like an expletive, “and that cherry lube smells pretty strong.”

The cherry lube was a real thing that I had but it was entirely unintentional. It was just something I saw, walking out of a rare convenience store trip by myself that I bought impulsively because I didn’t think I’d get another chance like this to restock. The fact that it was cherry scented was entirely coincidental. I never even thought about the smell when I finally got the chance to use it (and that was all hurried and rushed, trying to get off as fast as possible because there were three other people in my room).

“You’d shake the whole bed.” He says almost admonishingly and I wonder if humiliation is a kink I have to accept too now. “And I’d hear all those pretty, little muffled noises and the slick sound of your fingers buried in yourself and think about opening you up myself, giving you something better than your own fingers.”

My breath is labored and shallow, thinking about Seokwoo hearing me every time, thinking about him _wanting_ me the entire time, thinking about him climbing up to the top bunk and fucking me. I know I'm hard and leaking, feeling the uncomfortable strain of my pants. And I know it's because I'm thinking about Seokwoo listening to me, fantasizing about me and I can't stop the desperate whine that escapes my throat, thinking about him pinning me down, replacing my fingers with his cock.

"Oh, you like that?" He taunts. "You must've wanted to get fucked so bad, sounding like that." It's a fake, syrupy sweet sympathy that still sends a shiver down my spine. "Too bad we have those bunk beds and I can't, right baby?"

And I whine louder because his mouth is right against my skin and burning and the entire night has been me being denied things that I want. And, god, I just want to get fucked with those huge hands circling my waist, that's all. "Mark me up." I instruct instead.

"The makeup noonas won't like that." He chides but his mouth has slid down to my pulse point and I can feel his lips brush over my skin with the words.

"Bite me." I tempt again. Because it's been so fucking long since anyone left any marks on me and I knew that a ring of teeth marks would look so good on me. And then I feel the light scrape of teeth against my neck and sigh happily because I'm finally getting what I want. His mouth comes down light and teasing and unsure—a tickle more than a bite—and I groan because I want to be ruined, not teased.

I frustratedly pull at the button of his jeans because I’m tired of being denied what I want. I just want one thing to go right for me. And I’ll get off before I leave this room even if it kills me. Seokwoo keens as I push his pants down, exposing him. I guess I never got around to thinking about what his cock would look like but it’s pretty, red at the tip and glistening. And I want him all over again. I’m drowning in how much I want him and he’s hurriedly pulling at my pants too.

He’s flustered and rushed and without finesse again, the controlled teasing from before totally dropped in favor of stripping me as much as he can. He whines—broken and beautiful—when I finally find the angle to push my cock against his. It shatters what’s left of his dominant demeanor and things are back in my hands again but he sounds so pretty broken I almost don’t mind. His breath is coming out in little pants against me, soft litte “ah ah”s that I’ll always be thinking about when I hear him sing now.

Even though both of us are leaking, there’s still not enough precum to make the slide easy and I know it’ll start to burn before either of us can cum. So I pry the hand that’s clenched onto my hipbone like a vice off and lift it to my face. Seokwoo’s eyes open, half-lidded and confused as I lick a fat stripe up the center of his hand. He moans and throws his head back at the sight. “Do you even fucking know…” He trails off unfinished. “You do shit like this and I just wanna fucking bend you over and make you scream.” He groans. “You’re every fucking wet dream I had since I was sixteen and you’re even hotter in real life.”

"Then you should do something about it." I tempt, still leaving little kitten licks on his hand.

"Like what?"

"Fuck me." I smirk at him slyly. And I watch as his eyes flit between my mouth on his hand and my eyes while I finally suck his pointer finger into my mouth.

He throws his head back and moans like I'm sucking him off for real. And, god, I want to. I want him to fuck me into the couch and I want to choke on his cock and I want a ring of pretty marks around my neck but next time, I promise myself, next time. He's already crumbling and I'm still canting my hips up against him because I can't stop myself and I don't wanna get too far gone, dry and chafing. So I guide his spit-soaked hand down to our cocks.

He naturally wraps his hand around mine, giving an experimental stroke. "Like this." I correct, wrapping both of our hands around both of our cocks. It's overwhelmingly warm and velvety against him. And his hand fits so easily around both of us, mine dwarfed in comparison and I was still drunk off of feeling so small against him. "Follow hyung." I tell him darkly, thrusting up into his hand. 

He whimpers broken and helpless, thrusting desperately with me. It's stupid easy to break him. It really is and I can't believe how weak he is for the whole "hyung" thing but the flushed desperation is cute somehow. He spills over both of us quickly with a broken noise he tries to bury into his free hand. He's fucking beautiful when he cums though, beautiful in a way I've never been struck by. His whole body is strung tight and the flush is delicate—a color I'd like to immortalize, like perfectly applied makeup on his cheeks—and his eyes, desperate and yearning on me. It's a temptation, it's a gift, it's a blessing. And I'll never be able to hear him singing without thinking about the broken noise he moans out for the rest of my life.

I unintentionally still, barely stuttering my hips against his softening cock to watch his blissed-out face. Seokwoo clumsily loosens his hand and tries to wipe off his cum on his boxers. I whine pitifully, grabbing his hand and guiding it back to my cock. "Please," I whimper, "like this." And I thrust back up into the loose circle of his hand, using his cooling cum to ease the slide.

"That’s dirty, hyung." He teases, his demeanor going dark again, teasing in a way that makes me desperate. "You want to fuck into my mess like this?" It's sticky and warm and I want to be filled, I want to be fucked against a wall but Seokwoo's breath ghosting my neck with demeaning questions feels like a dark promise. And I’ll take it.

"Please, please, _please_ ," I chant. He's so big. His hand is so big. I'm burning up and losing my rhythm, every breath coming out with some soft moan. 

"Dirty old man." He growls and I cum at that. It's a low moan that rips from my throat while I spill over Seokwoo's already dirtied hand. "Pretty, pretty, beautiful," he _prays_ , pulling me in for a desperate kiss before I can even catch my breath. And it's desperate and sloppy, me breathing against his mouth more than kissing him. "You're beautiful, hyung." He whispers feverishly. "You're more beautiful than I ever imagined."

I want to respond. I want to tell him he's beautiful too. I want to apologize for ever looking away from him, for ever thinking that his beauty was something I could get past. But I feel like I'm drowning in his affections, barely able to come down from my high and I'm hiccupping out little sobs before I can even figure out why.

“Fuck,” he panics, his hands flitting over my face, his eyes wide. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” His hands finally settle on wiping away my tears frantically.

“I’m ok.” I whisper out quietly. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” I mostly don’t. My chest is already heaving with stuttering breaths and my heartbeat is erratic from the orgasm and the tears just seem like natural progression. The lingering guilt over Seokwoo’s reverence and devotion only pushes me over the edge, doesn’t start the whole thing. “You did perfect.” I assure him, pulling him into a sweet kiss because there are a lot of things that I can’t really give to Seokwoo but we can make do with this until I can. I’ll fill in the gaps—all the time he spent thinking the world of me while I barely thought of him at all—later. I’ll really give him what he deserves later when it doesn’t just feel like I’m lying to keep him happy.

By the time we make it back to our dressing room (after cleaning up as best we could in the bathroom), no one has even come looking for us. Chanhee and Younkyun are playing some kind of word game, Taeyang too close and falling asleep on Youngkyun’s shoulder and Sanghyuk looking on with amusement. Youngbin is the only one that even looks up at us. “Are they done cleaning up out there?” He asks, only barely sounding interested in the answer.

“What?” Seokwoo answers dumbly.

“Weren’t you guys cleaning up the stage?” It’s not accusatory and he breezes right past it without expecting an answer. “So like are they done or what?”

“I think they’re almost done.” I lie smoothly, settling down on an empty couch.

“Cool,” Youngbin acknowledges. “The vans got stuck in traffic so we’re just waiting.”

“Sucks,” Seokwoo follows my lead and settles down on the couch next to me. “Do you know when it’s gonna get here?” He’s too close to me but he’s always too close to me. We’re a group without any concept of personal space anyway.

Youngbin gives a passive shrug and pops his earbuds back in. The babies haven’t moved at all from where we found them on the couch and we slide perfectly and easily back into the picture like Seokwoo wasn’t covered in both of our cum minutes ago. Jaeyoon’s asleep and Juho’s gotten cuddly by the time the vans do show up and there’s really not even any leftover high for us to ride from the crowd. We’re just fucking exhausted.

Seokwoo pulls me down next to him—almost in his lap—on the backseat bench, him against the window when we finally get into the vans. That’s all he does, though, is keep me close. He’s cuddly and he wraps as much of long limbs around me as he can and I think he’s just gonna fall asleep like that, Jaeyoon’s asleep in front of us again anyway. I’m still thinking about how much bigger Seokwoo feels than me but I’m not thinking about getting pinned down anywhere anymore, I’m mostly thinking about waking up in a loose-limbed hold like this.

“When do we go back to Japan?” He asks me quietly, on some dimly-lit highway on the way home. It’s almost shocking how easily we go back to this, go back to just bandmates, to what we’ve been for years.

“I don’t know,” I respond just as quietly, “probably soon.”

“You should room with me.” His eyes are half-open, looking at me contentedly and I can’t believe he’s getting clingy and possessive already.

“Why?” I entertain.

“So I can fuck you properly.” He whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

And that makes me choke on my words, stumbling on the thought. (It’s been _so_ long since I’ve been fucked—years, decades, lifetimes, I might as well be a virgin again honestly.) But I recover smoothly, gracefully, sliding my hand up his thigh and looking at him from under my lashes. “I’ll see what I can do.” I tell him coyly and nuzzle into his side, pretending to fall asleep. I’m not gonna let the opportunity to have a whole hotel room in a foreign country to ourselves pass me by, though. I deserve to get fucked. And Seokwoo deserves to be loved. And we both deserved waking up in a loose-limbed hold, content and warm and sated.

**Author's Note:**

> cancers cry after sex, i'm sorry that's just how it is, i don't make the rules  
> hmu at [tumblr](angelinmyheartt.tumblr.com) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Nitzer) for more loving roasts of sf9 and other groups (many other groups)


End file.
